


Every Rick needs a (Tall) Morty

by GhostyGirl01



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Cannon Divergence, Character Development, Citadel of Ricks, Fluff and Angst, Forget about president Morty, Gen, He isn't impacting my story, Minor Violence, Only later on though, Slow Rick is my bby, maybe?? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostyGirl01/pseuds/GhostyGirl01
Summary: Slow Rick, or "Tall Morty" as he's known by the others, dreams of graduating and becoming the best Morty sidekick a Rick could ask for. But will any Rick even look twice at him?





	1. Did I gradgitate this time yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Wow those tags sucked! It's not letting me properly tag things right now but I'll update them when it gets fixed. I hope you like this anyway if you came this far :)

_“What happened to him?”_

  
_“That’s what we’re trying to fig-figure out. RPT-13 picked him up when he brOOUUGHke his portal device, smashed the bulb with a rock...”_

  
_“Jeez... So w-w-what are we supposed to do with him then? I mean he’s stupider than-- got less intelligence than a Morty!”_

  
_“Stick him in with the Rick-less. We’ll figure out what to do with him later.”_

\---------------

Slow Rick sat in class, brokenly repeating everything he was told to along with the other Mortys. His yellow shirt bit uncomfortably into his arms and neck, too tight to give him any freedom of movement and the desk was also too small; forcing his spidery legs to bunch up awkwardly.

But he didn’t complain. All he knew was that he had to learn how to be good, how to repeat things, and then maybe they would let him... Let him...

Slow Rick bunched up his eyebrow, stilling the occasional twitches. What was that word? It was a big word and he had stayed up all night to learn it.

“Tomorrow you will be transferred to your new Ricks. Hopefully they will be your last.”

Hearing the mention of new Ricks, Slow Rick turned to face the teacher and raised his hand, twitching uncontrollably.

“Yes slow Ric- Tall Morty?” Teacher Rick asked, catching himself mid-sentence.

“D-did I gradgitate this time yet?” he asked, smiling when he remembered the special word. It was good when he got sentences out without having to repeat himself.

“Anything’s possible, Tall Morty. Ugh...”

Everyone laughed and the bell rang, signalling that lunch was starting. Slow Rick didn’t stop to think that they were laughing at him, or that the teacher version of himself called him Morty because he was ashamed to think of him as a Rick.  
He just got up and walked out, running his hand along the wall as he went.

  
_Keep your hand on the blue wall, that’s how you get to lunch._

  
Someone had told him that once. Slow Rick got lost a lot and after the fifth Morty had found him crying alone after getting turned around in the school halls, they all tried to help him.  
Mortys came and went, some the same, some different, but they all took pity on the tallest of Mortys.  
The slowest of Ricks.

\---------------

Lunch was the same. Always the same. Not to say they didn’t offer different things, but that he only wanted the same meal every day.

Bacon from Yianerth-19.

It was his favorite and he ate it without question, pulling apart the stringy, blue meat with his hands before dropping the little pieces into his mouth.

Some Mortys watched from their respective tables, pitying the freak amongst them. None of them knew how long he’d been in the Morty reassignment program but most of them speculated that he would never graduate. What Rick would want a slow version of themselves? Not a shield, not a companion, just a burden.

Slow Rick kept eating, only growing annoyed for a moment when his twitchy fingers dropped a piece of the salty meat onto the floor. He wanted to pick it back up but as he reached down, the bell rang and every Morty started moving out and back to class, leaving Slow Rick behind.

Twitching unhappily, he carefully picked up the shreaded pieces of space bacon left on his plate and put them into his ill-fitting jeans pocket, following the crowd of other Mortys when he was done. After-lunch class was difficult to get to because it changed every week. Sometimes it was ship driving lessons, sometimes it was cutting up frogs from Xiater-C.  
Slow Rick didn’t like either of those classes.

He stuck with the group of Mortys from the cafeteria and followed them to class. It was up a small flight of stairs so he knew it was frog dissecting.

Once Rick had snuck his frog out of class and attempted to set it free by dropping it out of the window. It had dropped like a stone and left a neon purple splatter stain on the concrete ground below, much to his disappointment. They jumped so high up, didn’t they like flying?  
Apparently not. Slow Rick had been banned from leaving class during lesson without another Morty escorting him from then on.

“Ri- uh... M-Morty! Come on!” a Morty called from the top of the stairs, waving to the Rick who’d been staring out of the window and down at that stain.

Slow Rick blinked then smiled up at him, walking up the stairs to go into class with the other Mortys. He was going to pay extra attention so that when he got a new Rick tomorrow, he’d be able to show him everything he’d learnt!  
He’d be the best assistant ever, he just had to be. After all, it was all a Morty could do.


	2. Anything's possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick learns that not everyone is as nice as he once thought

Cool water ran over his callused hands, washing away the florescent purple gunk that had marked them so brightly. The day was over and Slow Rick was washing up before going home, desperate to get that awful stain off his hands.

The bathroom was empty except for him but he didn’t mind, too busy dealing with the purple mess to think about it.  
Too busy to notice when the bathroom door opened and someone walked in.

“Well, well, w-well. If it isn’t the _Sl-Slow Rick_ ,” a voice said, young and pubescent. It was one of the only other voices he’d heard here before.

Turning to look, Slow Rick saw the other Morty stood between him and the exit. He was fitted out in a studded leather jacket and his brow hair was slicked back. He was weilding a small switch blade and flicked it open and closed, like a twitchy habit.

Slow Rick smiled at the new friend, letting his still wet hands rest by his side so they could mess with the material of his too tight shirt.

“H-hi!” he responded cheerfully. Too cheerfully.

Greaser Morty kept his permanent scowl up, starting to close the difference between he and Slow Rick.

“Y’know…” he started, looking up into Rick’s docile eyes, “I never thought I’d take pity on a R-Rick. The all time, self a-ano-- proclaimed, smartest men in the-the multiverse.”

Rick just stared, muscle ticks causing him to twitch occasionally.

“And yet here you are. Stuck with the Mortys. Funny how things work out isn’t it?”

By now the gap between them was completely closed and Greaser Morty had to crane his neck up to look into Slow Rick's slightly crooked gaze.

This other Morty was using a lot of big words, a lot of things he didn’t understand, but Slow Rick just kept smiling and twitching. All the Mortys were nice to him, helping him to class and sometimes helping him write up his work when the words escaped him.

“How does it feel?” Greaser hissed, growing more and more annoyed when his intimidation tactics didn’t work. Was this Rick just too stupid to be scared? “How does it feel to be a retard amongst the slow? Huh?! To know that you’ll be taking these classes until you drop dead!”

Slow Rick flinched when this Morty raised his voice, reeling back a little and leaning against the wet countertop.

Seeing Rick’s smile dim, Morty’s confidence grew and he reached up to grasp the scruff of his grandfather’s yellow shirt, using it to pull his face down to the same level.

“You’re a freak,” he whispered, voice almost giddy with the excitement of saying this to an actual Rick, “and you should be put out of your misery.”  
The second Slow Rick showed any kind of resistance, the switch blade was pulled up to his throat and Greaser's excitement doubled, his eyes shining with eager anticipation.

“Killing a Rick… C-c-can you imagine? I’ll be a… A legend! More than just a Morty among Mortys. A God slayer.”

Slow Rick tried to pull back, whining unhappily as the blade cut lightly into his skin. This Morty was too close and he wanted to go home. He had to meet his new Rick tomorrow!

“I… Ha-ve to go h-home…” he said, pushing the words out fearfully, twisting his wiry hands together to keep them busy.

In one swift movement, Rick was thrown to the floor and Morty moved to tower above him, grinning with glee.  
Slow Rick yelped as his skinny body hit the cold tile floor, sending ripples of pain up the arm he landed on. He didn’t understand why this was happening, why the other Morty was throwing him around and yelling at him. Hot, salty tears burnt his eyes and spilled out onto his wrinkled cheeks, causing his whole body to hiccup and twitch with every heaving breath he took.

With his eyes squeezed painfully shut, he didn’t see what happened next. There was a loud bang, like a door swinging open, and he heard a Rick yelling something. The other Morty said something back but both their words were too fast for his jumbled brain to comprehend.

After a moment Rick heard the sound of retreating footsteps and a gentle sigh as someone helped him up.

He opened his eyes, hardly able to breathe past the sniveling and the twitching, and stared at his long-haired duplicate.

“T-t-huh-teacher?” he asked, holding onto the other’s shoulders for support. The well dressed Rick nodded.

“Slow R-uh… Tall Morty. Are you okay? That-that-that Greaser Morty really shook you up huh? D-don't woOOUGHry, no Rick would ever pick him anyway. Little turd…”

Slow Rick sniffled, looking down at his still stained purple hands.  
“But they’d p-pick want me?”

Opening his mouth, Teacher Rick planned to tell him the truth. That he would never be picked, that he just wasn’t useful, but the pained look in his other self’s eyes made him stop.

“Hey… Anything’s possible, Tall Morty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhh the angst. My poor baby


	3. Soft hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow Rick suddenly finds his life changed forever when he meets someone in the chaos of the Rick Reassignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written in a while so the pacing might not be great but I'll try to make things more consistent next chapter. Thanks!

When dawn broke, Slow Rick was still twisted in his sheets, wiry body twitching softly as he slept. The artificial lights outside in the citadel buzzed to life, signalling the change from night to day. In reality the nearest sun to them was 4.37 light years away so there was no real day or night but it was simulated by a 12 hour timer.

Suddenly a large, gravely voice, echoed over the speakers to wake the many Mortys  
“Attention dipasses! Rick reassignment begins in thOOOUUGHrty minutes! Head to the reassignment c-cen.. Building or get left behind.”

The whole Morty complex groaned at the short time limit but then began to climb out of bed, each grabbing a yellow shirt and pair of blue pants from the draws that lined the base of the bedroom walls. Unless it was a special item of clothing, all the Mortys shared clothes because it was easier than trying to keep track of every single piss coloured t-shirt in the citadel. None of them seemed to mind though, especially knowing that in less than an hour they’d be able reassigned and free to leave their dull classes.

However, amongst the chaos of hundreds of Mortys getting washed, dressed and possibly even grabbing a snack, one bed still held its inhabiter; Slow Rick did not want to get up. He remained firmly twisted in his sheets and simply listened to the other Mortys getting ready for the day.

He would have stayed like that forever if he could have, but soon he felt small soft hands untangling him from his bed.

“R—uh, Tall Morty? Y-you have to get up, reassignment starts in twenty minutes! You don’t wan-w-want to get left behind, do you?” his untangler asked, eventually freeing him from his binds. As Slow Rick sat up, he realised that it wasn’t a Morty who’d come to help him... Well it was, but not really. Instead of the usual brown haired boy that he’d grown so used to seeing, now he was looking at a brown haired girl. Her bangs were neatly trimmed to lie just above her hazel eyes and she was wearing the usual yellow shirt except it lay a little differently on her frame.

Scouring his mind for her name, he stared at her for a little longer. Molly? Mortis? Mortia?

“Here,” she said, breaking the silence between them and handing him the average Morty pants and shirt “You should get ready. I’ll-I’ll hopefully see you at the reassignment?”

Slow Rick opened his mouth to speak but she hurried off to get herself ready before he even got the chance to say thank you.

After another second of silent thought, he stood and got changed into the ill-fitting clothes. The tight sleeves cut uncomfortably into his arms but what hurt the most was the black and purple bruise that spread out across his left arm like an unchecked disease. Gently brushing his hand across it brought back flashes of yesterday, of being thrown down to the floor by that other Morty.

He’d never known there were people that wanted to hurt him...

Shaking his head clear of the thought, he headed out of the mainly empty dorm room and out the door. Slow Rick was painfully hungry but knew that he had to follow the other Mortys to the reassignment center or he’d likely get turned around.  
The streets of the citadel were easy to get lost in.

\----------

  
When the herd of various Mortys, including Slow Rick, arrived at the reassignment building, they were all given a code number and told where to go stand.

Slow Rick wandered around lost for a few moments before a Morty who looked like a bunny helped him to find his designated cubicle. And that time he actually got to say thank you for it.

And then Slow Rick did what all the other Mortys were doing; he stood on display. Ricks passed by, occasionally pausing to give him an extra long look. Slow Rick was tempted to smile and wave to his possible new Rick, but they’d all been taught not to. So he didn’t.

As minutes ticked by, nothing exciting really happened. Mortys were picked, some were questioned a little, what was to be expected. But just as another Rick was staring at him, eyes filled with a mixture of pity and disgust, Slow Rick heard a commotion from just a few rows up.

“Sh-she’s mine! I called ahead and put my name dOOUGHwn, shithead!”  
“You’ve lost tw- Gotten two killed, D-bag, if anyone gets her it should be me!”

The two voices sounded exactly the same, which made sense, but Slow Rick still decided to go check it out, after all it wasn’t like he was gaining much interest anyway.

Walking out of his row and up towards the source of the noise, he soon discovered that a pair of Ricks were fighting over who got a Morty. However he quickly noticed that it wasn’t just a regular Morty, it was the one who’d helped him out earlier, she must be very special for a pair of Ricks to want her so bad, he reasoned.

Slow Rick shrugged and turned to go back to his own cubicle, but for some reason he started walking before fully turning and ended up walking full force into the wall of a cubicle nearest to him.  
He hit it hard. Really hard.

The three walled, metal box seemed to hit back, sending Slow Rick to the floor and causing everyone in the immediate vicinity to turn and look at him with scorn and annoyance.

But Slow Rick didn’t care about the dozens of eyes that were now on him, because he was staring wide eyed at the cubical he’d smacked into which had begun to topple backwards like a big, heavy domino.

“Th-th- hey!” he spluttered, desperately trying to get someone to stop looking at him and pay attention to the actual problem in front of them.

But it was too late.  
As if in slow motion, the cubical fell backwards and hit the one behind it, not only crushing the Morty but causing a chain reaction like a big game of dominos.

Some of the Mortys further back were given enough warning to get out, some were too busy talking to potential Ricks to notice the danger until it was too late and some tried to run but found themselves walled in and ultimately crushed under the weight of the iron sheets.

Slow Rick remained on the floor, watching it all unfold like some sick game. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. In a distant corner of the room, he noticed a small fire starting out of nowhere. In another part, a citadel guard Morty was trying to pull a limp guard Rick out from under the wreckage. A cacophony of groans and wails filled the air and Slow Rick was suddenly standing, something he must have numbly done without realising.

Outside the citadel he could hear sirens, but all he could do was stand and stare dumbstruck at his own hands. He would never be forgiven for this. They would take him and he’d never get assigned to a Rick, or even go back to classes! He’d really messed up this time and it was all his fault...

His breath was rapid and he almost fell back to his knees but something was holding him up. He was vaguely aware that someone was talking to him, but it sounded distant and muffled. Then, without warning, they were running and holding his hand in theirs, forcing him to move with them. He could barely see through the tears but didn’t resist, following them as they grabbed a portal gun off the ground, shot it at the closest wall, and dragged him through into the unknown.

All he could think as he was pulled into the green portal was that whoever’d lead him into said glowing vortex, had hands that were very small and soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADFHXDDTGV. I'm so sorry it took this long! I wrote this chapter three times with different outcomes because I didn't know which way to take it. I eventually thought this was an okay path to head down, feedback is super appreciated (because if it's trash no one likes them I'll change it up) ^^
> 
> Update: I accidentally wrote "tall Rick" like 10 times in this chapter so I fixed it up. Next time I'll proofread a little better!


	4. Aim for the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow Rick gets something right

When Slow Rick came to, his hands were up covering his face and he was laying on the ground. The grass was soft on his skin, which was a welcomed change from the hard floors he usually ended up on. It felt almost feathery, light to the touch, and idly he wondered how much time had passed since that stranger had taken his hand and thrown him into the unknown.

Most of his body hurt; the pain of being knocked to the ground twice in two days was enough to give his lanky body some painful bruises, all of which looked out of place on him.  
A Rick was supposed to be strong, able to hold his own in whatever circumstance, and while occasionally they did get hurt, it wasn’t supposed to look so pathetic. They had war scars, battle wounds, not ugly mottled bruises gained from being knocked to the floor.

But Slow Rick did. He hadn’t been in any battles for a long time but now, stuck in the middle of who-knows-where, he was actually in danger.

Cautiously, he moved his hands away from his face and looked around from his position on the grass. Huge, twisting plants rose up from the ground, spiralling high into the minty green sky and disappearing into the pink clouds above. Strangely they reminded him of a story he’d once read to a small, blonde haired girl.  
Slowly, he stood up and nervously twisted his hands together, running once callused hands over old scars on his knuckles. It was so... Bright! The air felt so clean, unlike the recycled oxygen of the citadel, and he didn’t feel as confined. It was almost as if he was supposed to be out here, exploring alien worlds. Free.

Laying to his left was the portal gun that’d been used to get here, its once bright bulb smashed and leaking toxicity onto the light blue grass. He reached down to grab it but something grabbed him first, holding him back with his other arm.

Slow Rick yelled and yanked his whole body away from the unseen attacker, the momentum causing him to fall back, nearly breaking the portal gun which was still laying neatly on the floor.

“Woah! Hey, ju-just relax, it’s me!” the voice called out, crouching over Slow Rick's form.

He just blinked, squinting at the figure until a name popped into his head.  
“M-M-orty?”

“M-morticia,” she corrected, smiling and offering him her hand “I helped you earlier today, r-remember? Although... Looking where we are, maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t shown up to reassignment.”

She looked around, searching for something in particular. Rick wasn’t sure what, especially since all anyone could see for miles and miles were pastel coloured plants, forming thick jungles around them both.

Slow Rick eventually took her hand, standing up and brushing himself down. He wished he’d kept count of how many times he’d fallen over today, although he was sure he’d quickly lose track.  
Morticia... The name sounded faintly familiar. She had neatly trimmed bangs and soft, auburn hair that framed her face perfectly. She was clearly highly prized among Ricks and he wasn’t surprised; who wouldn’t want such a kind hearted Morty?

Grabbing the broken portal gun up off the ground, Morticia looked it over disappointedly before sticking it in the waistband of her blue pants.

“Come on,” she said, taking Rick's hand in hers and starting to walk “There’s no point us sti-sticking around here, right? There’s gotta to be the stuff to make another bulb and then I can take you back.”

“B-Back..?” Slow Rick asked, stumbling along behind her like a new fawn.

Morticia looked up at him with a questioning smile “Back home? You um, probably have a Beth, Jerry, Summer and Morty w-w-waiting for you! I just assumed you were, you know, stuck at the c-citadel so that’s why I brought you with me when I escaped in the chaos.”

Rick could just stare silently, taking in all her words. Beth? Blonde and red swirled within the confines of his mind, strongly associated with the simple name. It made him smile, though he wasn’t completely sure why.

Did she say Morty? But there couldn’t be two Mortys, that just didn’t add up. Where was his Rick? Wasn’t that why he’d been getting reassigned? Because he had no Rick?

“... You know? But-but he lost interest when he found out it only let him go litt- small distances,” Morticia said, finishing up a story that Rick hadn’t been listening to.

By now they’d gone through the forest and had arrived in a clearing, where a huge building stood before them. It wasn’t as big as the citadel, Rick observed, but it was still very tall and he could only wonder what it once was. A castle? A school? Whatever the answer, it wasn’t anything now.

Huge cracks had appeared in the stonework and the alien plant life had wrapped itself around what appeared to be a glass dome roof, shattering parts and burrowing into every nook and cranny available. A sign written in a strange, alien language had been half torn off the wall, deep claw marks cutting at it and the sealed metal door below.

  
“Come on, we can slip through one of the cracks I bet,” Morticia told him, letting go of his hand to go locate a crack big enough for them to both slip inside.  
As she walked ahead, Slow Rick noticed she was holding something in her hand. It looked like a metal pipe, adorned with thorns at the top. When had she gotten that?

He stood in place for a few more moments before walking over to join her, the two looking for a big enough split in the building to get inside. Rick didn’t know how long it took for night to fall, and he certainly didn’t want to find out why Morticia had already armed herself with a weapon.

Eventually Morticia found a way in and called out to Rick, who’d been investing the deep gauges at the buildings main door.  
“Rick! I uh...” she paused, stuttering for a moment when she realised she’d slipped up.

Slow Rick blinked, looked around, then over at Morticia curiously “Wh-What?”

She just swallowed, face red, and motioned him over to the long, crack in the wall. It was just big enough to fit them both inside if they really squeezed.

“L-l-look, we can get in here, s-see? We just have to set up like a camp, get a new battery an-and we’ll be going our own ways in no time,”

Rick walked over and placed his face against the hole, peering inside before Morticia started to push his whole body in. He stumbled a little but caught himself, slowly twisting and pushing his body until he emerged out the other side with only a few scrapes on the widest part of his hips and face.

Morticia got though with about the same difficult since they were both similar in width, just not height. Rick exhaled nervously then walked ahead, the light from outside providing little visibility in what was starting to feel like a concrete box.

Morticia had already started to set up camp, moving surprisingly fast to clear a space for them despite the low lighting.  
“Hey, why don’t you go look around a little? See if you can find something u-useful, you know?” she asked, eying the crack they’d come in through and wondering whether or not she should block it off during the rapidly approaching night.

Slow Rick looked over to her then nodded. He could help out, he’d been taught to assist after all! But what was considered useful?

A screwdriver? A wrench? An orb from Stroth 5Z6?

Rick blinked. Where had that thought come from? It couldn’t have been something he’d been taught at the citadel but it didn’t sound wrong...

“...Ick? Are you okay?”

Morticia was calling to him, trying to get him to snap out of his gaze, but Slow Rick just nodded, and started walking deeper into the building to find something useful. His own mind scared him, occasionally coming out with pieces of information that he wasn’t aware were in there. Shattered memories that flooded his dreams, nothing really piecing together. Images of different worlds remained burned in his mind, some silent and peaceful, some bloodied and war-torn, he just wished it would all make sense.

Slow Rick had been walking for some time now when he noticed daylight coming from the end of the room. No... Not daylight, it was far too blue in colour to be from the setting sun outside.  
He moved closer, careful not to trip over any loose debris, and slowly realised that it was a huge, glowing crystalline structure. It sprouted up out of the ground and clung to the wall, crawling its way to the roof like an out of control weed. The light blue glow pulsed regularly and Rick couldn’t help but wonder if it was alive, feeding off the building itself possibly.  
Surrounding the large crystal were tiny white dots that glowed equally as bright. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were small slug-like bugs that basked in the light of the crystal.

After what felt like an eternity of staring starstruck at the wall, which oddly looked like the night sky, he reached out and took a piece of the crystal in hand. It felt almost warm to the touch but he pulled anyway, twisting the pulsating piece and breaking it off with surprising ease. However, the second it was disconnected from the main structure, it stopped glowing and became as dull and grey as the flaking ceiling above, changing from a clear blue to a cloudy white.

Rick raised an eyebrow, dropping the crystal piece when it became useless to him. How was he supposed to get it back to Morticia if it stopped working when he took a piece?

Defeated, he sat down and leant his back against the wall, next to the crystal. He was wracking his brain, begging it to figure this out, just trying to be useful for once. Then, like someone had hit play on a voice in his head, he remembered something

_“Aim for the moon! If you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”_

The voice was a woman’s, sweet and encouraging, even if he couldn’t place it to a face.

“The sta-aars...” he mumbled before spotting something small crawling on his shoulder. Reaching up to carefully grab it, he saw that it was one of the bright, glowing slugs that were dotted around the crystal like little stars.

Slow Rick smiled, quickly taking off his uncomfortably small yellow shirt and loading it with as many bugs as he could get.  
He’d figured it out, done something right for once, and he just knew Morticia would be so proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This took a few rewrites, I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a bonus chapter when the main story is over? I had a different path for Slow Rick to head down in the last chapter


	5. Dreams of a forgotten past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today I met the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh damn it's a flashback chapter!

“Since when do you have a job?”

I asked, keeping concern and care out of my voice. The day had barely begun but I was already feeling like it was going to be long and boring. Part and parcel of living in a relatively normal household I guess.  
I glanced back over at her, but she was being as distant as I was, choosing to stare out of the passenger side window while she spoke.

“Since last week. It’s part time at this little vintage thrift store. My boss is this really smart, eccentric old man that treats me nice and values me.” She said as uncaringly as possible, but I could hear something in her tone and it made me wonder why she seemed to praise this guy so heavily. It was just a part time job, probably just cleaning up or restocking shelves, so why did she speak so well of it?

Naturally, I was going to find out.

“ _Meow_. Can’t wait to meet this UURP fascinating character.”

“Please don’t.”

It was clear she didn’t want me to interfere in different aspects of her life, but if there’s one thing a Rick loved to do, it was interfere.

The rest of the flight there was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. Or maybe it was and I was too focused on my flask to care. On the outside I remained neutral, but inside I was letting my curiosity nibble at my guts like a starving rat. What teenage girl would praise her boss so highly?

 

\------------------

  
When we eventually got there, I was more than interested in meeting this guy. He was probably just some old dude but I’d learnt never to let my guard down too much, especially when either she or Morty were involved.

The bell rang cheerfully as they entered the store and she greeted the only other person in there while I glanced around idly.

“Sorry I’m late! This is my grandpa, he was _just_ leaving.” She said, voice morphing from friendly to bitter as she finished her sentence.

“Huh,” I picked up a small ornament, looking at it with minimal interest. The guy, her boss, was stood behind me but I paid him no mind. If he was really so great he’d have to earn my attention.

I moved over to another object, glancing at him as I passed. He was tall, as big as I was, and he wore a top hat to emphasize it, along with a well crafted suit. His cheek bones stuck out and, paired with his well groomed facial hair, it gave him the impression of handsomeness.

“Tell me, what do you desire?” I instantly picked up on his voice. The accent was clear, but the tone was different. It was soft, charming, almost sly. Deception radiated off this guy like a bad stink but I wasn’t going to let him know that I could smell his facade. Not yet anyway.

Realising that he’d asked a question, I merely shrugged and replied “Eh, I make my own stuff.”

Sensing a moment to prod at him, I nonchalantly asked “So what are you? Like, the devil?”

“What? Sorry?”   
There it was... The charm was gone in an instant, replaced with a nervousness only someone hiding something could emulate.

Still I kept my own mask, letting my boredom cover my intentions.

“I dunno, store pops up outta nowhere, all this shit’s old and creepy. Are the devil? A demon? Leprechaun?”

“Grandpa!”   
Oh right, she was still here.

“Hey I’m not judging! I just like to shoot straight, I’m a man of science,” I said, turning to look at her as she balanced on a ladder.

“Ah then perhaps you could make use of this,” I look back over at her boss, who’d latched onto the fact that I was a scientist and had brought me a golden microscope. It looked like some cheap junk, more suited for a kid than any real scientist. “This microscope reveals things _beyond_ comprehension.”

After that, I grabbed the microscope and left in a mood. This guy was just too weird, no matter what she said.

 

\------------------

  
On the way back home, I got a text. It was from a client, he wanted the Pendulum Phase Blaster today.

I paused, thinking about my replies. I could either say okay and go home and finish it, or tell him to stick his gromflomite head up his ass and wait like everyone else had to. Normally I’d choose the latter, but I didn’t really have much planned anyway, and didn’t feel like and provoking an assassination attempt this early in the day either. So I told him I’d have it done within the hour and to meet me at our usual spot.

Back in the garage, I set the devil’s microscope on my workbench and started to gather the tools I needed. The weapon was surprisingly small, which meant the tools to create it were even smaller and it had to concentrate not to drop any of the tiny components.

“H-hey!” a voice from behind me suddenly called, cheerful if a little annoying.   
Startled, I drop one of the smallest components onto the desk and hear a little crack. Instantly I turn on my heel to berate the intruder.

“Morty, goddamn it!”  
He seems surprised at my outburst and takes a few steps back out into the hall.

“Woah, t-take it easy, I was just—”

“Just interrupting me! You-you'd better hope it’s for a good reason,” I snap, knowing full well that I was wasting more time by yelling at him.

Morty stands and stutters for a moment before I hear the garage door opening. The teenager winces, seemingly knowing what’s about to happen next, and takes the opportunity to leave just as he fully opens the door, his expression one of suspicion.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Out!” I yell, grabbing the nearest thing to me and hurling it across the room and at his head.  
If there was one thing that made me hate being back, it was the constant intrusions.

I exhaled once they were both gone, sinking back into my chair. The piece I’d dropped didn’t look too badly damaged, but I knew the full extent was impossible to see with the naked eye.

Then, without thinking, I grabbed the microscope, slotted the damaged component in, and pressed my eye to the eyepiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh whaaattt?? Was that okay? I can never tell. I hope it didn't get too boring, I had to rewatch the episode a bunch of times to get the dialogue and actions right.
> 
> Did you notice that Slow Rick doesn't remember names? ;p


End file.
